A Day of Change
by Angeldust1
Summary: A teenage girl's life, so unexpectedly turned upside down, changes dramatically when she comes in contact with the staff or the Cook County General ER


Title: A Day of Change  
  
This is my first ER fic, so please be kind.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Stephanie.  
  
Summary: A teenager's life, so tragically turned upside down, is changed dramatically when she comes in contact with the staff of the ER at Cook County General.  
  
Rating: PG 13 for the language.  
  
  
CHAPTER 1  
Mom hadn't told me she was leaving. I had never even caught any hints from her after all these years, but now that I look back on the past few months, I realize that something had been wrong. Her behavior, the way she looked at me, with that glint of regret in her eyes that only meant one thing. That she didn't want a daughter anymore. That she wanted to be free. I should have noticed it, but I had been too busy trying to go on with my life after Dad died. I had been too hopeful to see what was really there.  
  
Now, here I am, in the hospital with a sprained ankle, caused by a fall down the rickety stairs of our cramped apartment. With no one to look after me. Mom had left as soon as I had been checked into the ER, with no goodbye, no 'I'm sorry, Stephanie, but I can't go on'. At least then she would've had an excuse.  
  
Of course I just want to break down in tears and cry forever, but I can't. One because my ankle is hurting too much to hardly let me think about anything else, and two because I was never one to cry in front of strangers. They would begin to notice something was wrong, besides my ankle and my AWOL mother. No, I just have to stick this out and hopefully get out of here without too much trouble.   
  
"Besides," I whisper to myself, "I am sixteen, after all." I can make it on my own. Just drop out of school and get a job...nothing to it.  
  
I glance at the clock that hangs in the waiting room, and can't believe my eyes when I realize that it's close to 2:00 AM. I've been here for three hours, and no one has gotten to me yet.  
  
I hate this. I hate the waiting, not knowing what to do...not wanting to think about what's going to happen to me. I have to move around at least. I see the tell-tale pale pink color of a candy-striper or receptionist or whatever, and I follow the quickly receding figure passed the first receptionist that had so adamantly told me to wait my turn without looking back. If they really cared that much, they would stop me.  
  
"Excuse me," I say as I wobble precariously to catch her. She's a large black woman that looks to be at her wit's end. She slows, then whirls with a huge sigh.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
I can't help but feel a little intimidated at her attitude towards me, "Uh...I was just wondering if anyone was going to get to me tonight. I don't think my left ankle is just going to heal on it's own."  
  
She looks like she wants to haul off and slap me for my words, but instead glances at my injured ankle casually, "The waiting room is out there."  
  
"I know, but...," she stops me with the look on her face, and I can't help but shrink back slightly. I've never been one for confrontations.  
  
Her frown gets deeper, "I'm sorry, but we're a little busy handling something that's a bit more life-threatening. When we can get you in, you'll know." with that said, she turns her back to me and heads back towards another desk, stomping all the way.  
  
"Sorry...," I mutter, fighting back a wave of just wanting to crawl in a hole and die. How could I be so selfish? This is an emergency room, where they work to save lives every day. Why would anyone concern themselves with a sprain over saving a life?   
  
I feel the tears coming on, no matter how much I fight them. This night seems like it'll never end for me. No mother, no friends with me...no one to care. I turn, defeated, staring at the ground, and begin to limp back towards the waiting room, only to run right into someone. Hard. I hear someone above me go "Whoa," and I wave my arms wildly to keep my balance, but I already know I'm heading for a very ungraceful fall.  
  
But instead, I feel a pair of strong arms catch me before I go down, and I glance up into kind brown eyes, "You okay?" the guy asks as he steadies me.  
  
"Uh, yeah." I manage to answer, surprised beyond words that someone's actually talking to me. He looks to be about thirty, and he gives me a crooked grin before letting me go. It's now that I notice his white lab coat and the name 'Dr. John Carter' across the front. I panic inside, wondering how much I resemble Hell at this moment, but he doesn't really seem to care. Why would he? I'm sure saving lives are more important than how people look to him.  
  
I feel another presence behind me, and I wince when I hear a sharp voice, "Now what did I tell you about being in here?" I turn to see the nurse again, and I bite my lip to keep the threatening tears from becoming a reality.  
  
"I'm sorry-," I try to say, but she cuts me off.  
  
"I suggest you get back outside and wait your turn or-,"  
  
Dr. Carter interrupts her, "Bad night Haleh?" I watch her face go from angry to just plain tired, but she doesn't answer, "it's okay. I can take care of her. We just sent Mr. Evans to the OR."  
  
I can't help but sag with relief that this damn ankle is finally getting looked at, and I feel Dr. Carter reach for me again cautiously. I give...Haleh, I think her name is, a triumphant smile, and she only puts her hands on her hips, exasperated, as Dr. Carter leads me towards the nearest room slowly, trying to support me a little as I hobble along.  
  
I'm able to sit up on the bed without any trouble as Dr. Carter looks at a chart he had retrieved from the receptionist's desk a minute ago, "Okay...Stephanie," he sits in a chair in front of me and starts to examine my ankle, which had swollen to about five times it's normal size already, "how did this happen?" he asks me gently as he studies it closely.  
  
"I fell down the stairs in our apartment," I answer, somewhat embarrassed.  
  
He looks up at me, and I notice that his eyes hold a hint of exhaustion in them. I'm probably the hundredth patient he's seen today, "You're lucky you didn't get hurt worse."  
  
"I guess so." he takes that moment to push gently on the bone, and I yelp as a sharp pain travels all the way up my left leg.  
  
He frowns, "Sorry about that."  
  
I can only nod as I bite my lip to keep from cussing. I'm sure doctors don't exactly like to hear that kind of stuff coming from their patients' mouths. Then again, they've probably heard everything in the book. He doesn't hurt me again though, just pokes at it gently, nowhere near where I had felt the sharp jolt of pain.   
  
"I'm guessing it happened because you were half asleep when you went down the stairs." he said without looking up.  
  
I glance at my long flannel pajama pants and my huge sweatshirt at his words. Oh yeah. I must look like crap. At least I had taken the time to put a bra on before coming here. That would've been too embarrassing.   
  
"Yeah, something like that." I didn't want to tell him that I had been woken up by the sounds of my mother leaving the house in a hurry, ready to run from all her problems, me being one of them. The sprained ankle should've been enough to keep her here, but it only delayed her an hour, just enough time to drive me here and check me in.  
  
As if reading my thoughts, Dr. Carter stands up and looks at me, "Where's your mom?"  
  
"Uh...," I am genuinely thrown off by his question. Weren't the doctors just supposed to work on you and leave it at that?  
  
His gentle smile fades a bit, "What about your Dad?"  
  
"He's gone," I blurt out before even realizing what I'm saying.  
  
Dr. Carter doesn't seem as fazed as I had thought he would be, "So a single parent family," he mutters, "if you'll wait a few minutes, I'll just go get your mom from the waiting room."  
  
"Um...," my attempts at a protest doesn't even slow him down, and he's gone before I can say anything more.  
  
"Great," I whisper as I sit back on the bed a little more comfortably. I worry about what he's going to say when he returns with no mother. Will he kick me out? Send me to the police? My mind is overwhelmed with what may happen to me, and none of the images I'm getting are happy, pleasant thoughts.  
  
My body is screaming at me to sleep, and I can't help but obey. I lay down on the bed slowly, trying not to hurt my ankle any more than it already is. As soon as my head hits the pillow, my eyes begin to shut on their own, and I begin to drift away.  
  
I'm in that weird half-asleep, half-awake place when I hear my name being called from above me. I don't want to open my eyes, but I know I have to. What greets me is Dr. Carter's confused face, "Stephanie, where's your mother?"  
  
He's obviously annoyed with me, and I sigh as I sit up slowly, "She's...," I know I shouldn't say anything, it would just get me into trouble, but this Dr. Carter is someone who I want to confide in, who I want to trust. My mind is screaming for all it's worth to keep me from telling him about my mother, but my mouth is already opening to spill everything, "she's-," but my explanation is cut off by the sounds of a situation outside the room.   
  
Figures are rushing past, one stopping long enough to yell, "Carter!" before moving on, and Dr. Carter sighs.  
  
"Stay right here." he informs me sternly as he hurries out of the room to assist his colleagues.   
  
I know I should just get the Hell out of here, but I don't want to leave this place. If I did, there would be a whole new life for me, one of complete independence, something I really don't want. Maybe if I can just delay the inevitable for right now...maybe mom will just come back.  
  
Of course, I feel like hitting myself as soon as the thought occurs to me. Why would she come back? She's finally free of all the responsibilities that had dragged her down these past sixteen years. She wouldn't even think about returning. As much as I hate it, as scared as I am, I know that I'm on my own now. I look down at my swollen ankle, wondering how long it will be before Dr. Carter can come back and wrap it or whatever. As much as it's hurting, I want to get up and find some food. I'm starving. I guess being in a hospital all alone does that to you.  
  
I gingerly hop onto the floor and slip my fuzzy leopard house slipper back onto my left ankle. They are the epitome of a sixteen-year-old's taste, and I'm sure I'll get some odd looks going through the ER with leopards on my feet. I don't really care, though. All I'm interested in is food right now. Maybe it would take my mind off of my situation.  
  
I make my way out of the room slowly, hindered by my ankle, which has gone almost numb. I hear the sounds of the fight to save a life a few rooms down, in one of the operating rooms, and I can't help but be pulled toward the shouts, the commands...even though I know I'll probably be sick at the sight of it. Still, I wobble towards the room, trying to stay as blended as possible. What I see through the window is something that makes me almost faint. There's blood everywhere. All over Dr. Carter, who's yelling something that I can't hear and huddling over the victim, all over the nurses...it's horrible. For a second, I can see what's beyond the doctor and nurses, and the sight is enough to make me cry. A man, who looks to be in his late thirties, is on the bed, and there's a huge two-by-four sticking out of his chest. He's still wearing his hard hat, as if no one had really thought to remove it, and I have to look away from the awful scene if I don't want to break down into tears and bring more attention to myself. I begin to limp away from that sight of blood and death and fear, towards where I hope is the cafeteria. I know now that I can't eat anything, but I only want to be away from what's going on in the ER.   
  
As I make my way down the hall, a tall black man rushes past me, paying no attention to anything but where he is going, which must be to assist Dr. Carter. I hope that they can save the man, but I have a feeling that the task may be too much. Still, I've heard stories about miracles in the ER.  
  
Fifteen minutes and two near-falls later, I'm down in the cafeteria. I take the nearest seat and let out a small sigh as the pressure is finally taken from my injured ankle. I want to stay here forever, just sitting here, where problems seem to disappear for a few precious moments. I know that I'll be found, but I don't care right now. I'm too tired, too fed-up with everything to care. I just want to rest.  
  
There are only a few people here, patients who are too antsy to sleep or people waiting for news of their loved ones. I see a woman and her daughter a few tables across from me, both absorbed in their concern for whoever they had come to be with. The girl, who looks to be about eight, reaches up for a hug, and the mother, wary and tired, envelopes her in her arms, and they stay like that, not moving. I catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down the mother's cheek, and I can't help but let my heart go out to them.   
  
But the sight of them makes me think about the absence of a loved one beside me, and my body is flooded with feelings of hatred toward my mother. How could she do this? I'm her own flesh and blood. What did I do wrong? Yes, that's it. It must be my fault. That's why mother left, because of me. How could I be so stupid? How? My mind is full of guilt and complete sadness at what has happened, and I can't help but let the tears come finally. My eyes blur, and I feel the tears cascading down my cheeks. I don't want to stop them, I only want to keep crying, while nobody is here to notice. I'm just one in many who are in pain right now, whether it be emotional or physical. It seems like all my pent-up anger, all my regrets, are flowing from me with my tears, but I don't feel any better. The tears are only evidence, witness to my pain. It's almost as if what has happened is truly real now. The tears are still coming, and I lay my head in front of me on the table, exhausted beyond words. And here, I cry for what seems like forever. Or maybe it really is. Maybe I'll stay here until I die.  
  
That would save me from what is to come. Perhaps it would even save me from having to do something to myself to end the horrible pain. I don't deserve this anyway. Why should I stay on this earth? Can't God just take me to heaven now to keep me from this torture?  
  
As soon as the thought pops into my already too-full mind, I realize that a few hallways down, there are people fighting for their lives, people that have reasons to stay here, and to ask to die is something that I should never have conceived. How can my pain be any worse than theirs? "Easy," I answer myself. This pain is worse than I've ever felt, the feeling of abandonment, of not being wanted by my own mother.  
  
I sit alone at the little table for what seems like an hour, not really doing anything, just thinking. I wonder if Dr. Carter and the other doctor were able to save that construction worker. Or maybe they're still working to save him. I don't know. Either way, he probably hasn't discovered that I'm gone yet. Probably doesn't really care, just like every person I cared about in my life.  
  
A few people give me curious looks, no doubt wondering what a sixteen-year old is doing by herself in her pajamas in the cafeteria. I don't care. I don't blame them for wondering about me.   
  
My reverie is interrupted when I feel a presence beside me, and I look up to see Dr. Carter, tired, depressed, and obviously agitated with me, "I thought I told you to stay in the room."  
  
I just look down because I suddenly feel ashamed for making him chase after me. But I still want to know about the victim that had torn Dr. Carter from me in the first place, "Did that man live?"  
  
He sighs, and my hope plummets, "You saw."  
  
I can only nod as I steel myself for what's coming next.  
  
"No," Dr. Carter flops down beside me, looking much the worse for wear, "no he didn't."  
  
I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. How could anyone die in just an hour? And so easily?  
  
I see Dr. Carter studying me closely, probably sensing my change in demeanor, "I shouldn't have told you that." he tells me quietly.  
  
"I'm-I'm fine." I choke out as even more tears begin to spring up, but I successfully keep them down.   
  
Dr. Carter sighs as he runs a hand through his messed-up hair as he watches me, "So...," he begins, "where's your mother Stephanie?"  
  
I knew that question was coming, but I can't help but feel blindsided. How to answer this? I feel like screaming my lungs out, telling him that my mother is an irresponsible bitch that never deserved a daughter. I want to just cry again and never stop, I feel so incredibly alone and abandoned. So many emotions at once flood my consciousness as I stare at the table in front of me.   
  
"She-she's," I suddenly feel like I can't breath, and I have to pause, take a deep breath, "she's gone."   
  
Dr. Carter looks like he doesn't quite follow me, and I bite my lip to keep the tears from showing up again.  
  
"She was leaving, and I tried to stop her, but I tripped and fell down the stairs." I say softly, almost too quietly for even me to hear.  
  
Dr. Carter shifts uncomfortably, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be," I manage to say bitterly as I continue my fascinating study of the top of the table, "I've had enough of regret. She obviously regretted me enough to leave."  
  
"Did she bring you here?"  
  
I nod, "Yeah. Then-then she left." I can't control the trembling in my voice now, and I know he hears it.  
  
Dr. Carter looks like he feels he shouldn't be having this conversation with me. He's probably one of those guys that runs away from things like this. Probably never even knew what it's like to have your parents turn their backs on you. Now that I think about it, his parents probably sprung for medical school and all that crap.  
  
"So...now you know," I say, finally forcing myself to look at him. His kind face is the picture of exhaustion, and I feel a slight pang of guilt for putting this on him, "what are you gonna do?"  
  
I'm scared to death of what the answer is going to be. I'll probably go through Hell just for my mother's stupid mistake. Foster homes, orphanages... why should I get shafted for what she did?  
  
"I have to report it." he answers, somewhat reluctantly.  
  
My heart speeds up a bit, "But why?" I can't help but ask. The juvenile part of a sixteen-year old is showing through me now, the part that's protesting against change for all it's worth, "I can just stay here." I finish lamely.  
  
"Stephanie...," Dr. Carter sighs for what seems like the umpteenth time, "you know you can't do that."  
  
"Well, it looks like you live here." I say.  
  
He looks surprised as he scratches at his bristly chin, "I'm pulling a double shift. One of my colleagues is out of town."   
  
"How long have you been here?" I ask curiously.  
  
He shrugs, "Since about ten this morning, I guess."  
  
I can't help but feel kind of bad for him. Who would want to throw away their whole personal life for a job? "Wow," I glance at the table again, "some shift."  
  
"Yeah," he nods as he stretches, "I've slept in this building, worked for days at a time...it's a trip."  
  
For a moment, I'm completely clueless as to why he's being so open to me, so nice. He's got to have other patients. Does he spill everything to them too? I voice my thoughts, and he frowns as he thinks about it.  
  
"I don't know. I guess...I guess I just see something in you that's a little different," he shrugs, then chuckles weakly, "it's strange."  
  
"Yeah." I reply.   
  
He's silent for a moment, then seems to snap into doctor-patient mode, "I better get you back to the ER to get that ankle wrapped."  
  
"Okay," I stand up slowly, wincing as I'm forced to put some of my weight on my left ankle. As we make our way out of the cafeteria slowly, I can't help but ask him, "What are you gonna do, Dr. Carter?"  
  
Beside me, he frowns, and his hold on my arm tightens a little, "I don't really know. Even if I report you, the social services probably won't make it around to talking to you until tomorrow afternoon. They're slower than you would believe."  
  
"Can I stay here?"   
  
"I don't see any other possibility," he answers as we turn a corner, "I'll be here until tomorrow night, at least, so you won't feel completely alone."   
  
An image of my mother pops into my head with the word 'alone', but I try to shove her out of my mind, "Okay."   
  
We're at the reception desk now, and Haleh gives me a look as she approaches us, "Finally tracked her down, doc?"  
  
Dr. Carter nods, "She was in the cafeteria." he answers, "but no harm done."  
  
"Mmhmm." Haleh scoffs as she turns back to her work.  
  
Dr. Carter gives me a harried smile as he leads me back to the room I had been examined in, "Okay, Stephanie," he begins professionally as I sit on the bed again, "you'll just need a wrap and a pair of crutches, and you'll be ready."  
  
Crutches? Oh man, I was hoping to be able to avoid that whole thing completely. Guess not.   
  
I don't say anything as he wraps my ankle carefully and meticulously, and I figure that he's probably one of the best doctors in the hospital, considering how natural he acts in these surroundings. The ER is probably where he belongs, a place where he can really put his talent to work.  
  
"I don't need crutches. Really." I say timidly as he glances at me.  
  
Dr. Carter gives me a little smile, "You think so?"   
  
I nod, "They'd just be in my way."  
  
"Hey Carter," comes a voice from the doorway, and I turn to see a woman with short dark hair standing there, "you heading to Doc Magoo's after you finish with this patient?"  
  
He nods without looking up, "Yeah. I'm on break soon."   
  
"Cool. just let me know." she says as she leaves.  
  
"Sure Abby."  
  
I can't help but get a feeling of unhappiness, maybe even depression from her, and I stare at her receding figure quizzically, "Her name is Abby?" I ask.  
  
Dr. Carter nods, "Yeah," my ankle is done now, and he stands up with a faint smile, "alright. I've got it wrapped. Does it feel okay? Not too tight?"  
  
"No. It's fine." I answer.  
  
"Good," he says, "I'll be right back with your crutches, and don't go anywhere." he says authoritively.  
  
I nod to show that I'm not moving, and he's gone.  
  
I'm alone again, and my mind begins to drift toward the sleepy side. I hope I can go to sleep for a awhile after Dr. Carter gets back and gives me those stupid crutches. That would really hit the spot right now. Just to drift away and forget about everything that's happening to me right now...   
  
"Here you go, Stephanie," Dr. Carter's voice brings me back, and I sit up slowly as he approaches me with two crutches in his hands, "if you'll just stand up, we'll get them adjusted to your height."  
  
"Sure." I stand up slowly, putting my weight on my right leg, and he hands me the two steel bars. It only takes a few minutes to adjust them, and we're done. Dr. Carter smiles at me as I lower myself back onto the bed. I'm so tired now I can hardly concentrate on anything.  
  
He looks at me a moment, and all I can do is stare at him blearily before my eyes begin to shut themselves, "Why don't you just lay back and sleep for awhile, huh?"   
  
"Sleep is good." I mumble as I lay down. I can hear him moving around above me.  
  
"Here." I feel a blanket on me, and I manage a smile before I drift off completely...  
  
  
*************************************************************  
  
CHAPTER 2  
I'm staring into my mother's tired, drawn face. Watching those greenish-brown eyes gleam with the want to just get away from everything. Get away from me. All I can see is her face, nothing else. Nothing exists to me except the face of the one that abandoned me.  
  
"Why?" I ask. My voice sounds far off and hollow, like I'm hearing it through an old record player.   
  
She just shakes her head, and her short limp hair flies around her thin face. She doesn't say anything, just stares back at me.  
  
I try to say something, but I'm pulled back to one of my memories of my childhood. Mom and Dad, fighting in the kitchen. I can't move away from the horrible scene. All I can do is sit on the stairs and listen as they yell, throwing insults at each other that I've never heard.  
  
"She's only ten, dammitt!" my Daddy's voice, full of anger and hatred towards my mother. The sound of it causes the tears to spring to my eyes. I look down at the raggedy teddy-bear I've had since I was four and hug it closely as the screaming continues.  
  
My mother's voice is there, making me jump, startled, "I don't give a shit! She was an accident, after all. Someone else can take care of her!"  
  
Those words are in my mind forever now, never to be erased no matter what. I was just an accident, unwanted.  
  
"Anna, listen to yourself!"   
  
My tears blur my vision as I play with Teddy's bow around his neck. My Daddy only stayed because of me, not because he loved Mom, but because of his daughter. Me. The words are becoming worse and worse, more hateful. I'm finally able to tear myself away from my position on the steps and I bound up to my small room, desperate to get away from what is happening.  
  
Now, I'm with my mother, at the funeral home, staring at my Dad's pale, made-up face. He looks so serene in the coffin, so free of everything. I wish I could be like that, just...away. The doctors had told Mom that his heart had finally given out after years of drug abuse. That last hit of heroine had been it. Now, there was no redemption. It was too late for that. My father was dead, the only person who ever really cared about me.  
  
What was to become of us now? I have no idea.  
  
My mom turns to stare at me with those hard, cool eyes of hers, "It's a shame." those words, still burned in me, were the only words spoken about my father after his death.  
  
"It's time for a new life, Stephanie. You're...what? Thirteen now?"  
  
I only nod. I've become accustomed to my mom's disinterest in my life. Twice, she's forgotten my birthday completely.  
  
"We're going to start all over." she says, with just a hint of a smile on her pale face.  
  
I have the slightest bit of hope now. Maybe everything will be for the better. Maybe we'll finally be a family. A whole new way of living for us now, a fresh start...  
  
"Mommy?" I ask, as the funeral parlor disappears and is replaced by the inky blackness of a completely darkened room. She's not beside me anymore. Now, I'm all alone. Abandoned.   
  
I hear something behind me, a footstep, and I whirl around to find Dr. Carter standing there, "Stephanie...where's your mother?" he asks, confusion written all over his face. His lab coat is stained with the blood of the construction worker, but he doesn't seem to notice, "where is she?" he asks again, this time with a hint of annoyance in his voice.  
  
"She's...she's gone." I say, but my voice is carried away by a wind I don't feel, lost to anyone's ears but my own.   
  
And in the darkness of the room, with no one to hear, I begin to scream.  
  
  
The sound is deafening, but I can't stop it. It's all I can hear, that scream that sounds as if someone is dying from the inside out. It's everywhere...  
  
"Stephanie!"  
  
Everywhere, no way to stop it...  
  
"Stephanie, wake up!!"  
  
So deafening...  
  
"Stephanie! You're dreaming!"  
  
What?  
  
I open my eyes with a start, and as soon as I'm awake, the screaming stops. The nurse that had almost kicked me out, Haleh, is beside me, her eyes as round as saucers. I realize now that I had been screaming, and I mumble an apology as I sit up slowly.  
  
I flinch, expecting some kind of an insult, but she only sighs, "Are you okay, honey?"   
  
"What?" Is she actually worried about me?  
  
"You were screaming like you'd just gotten shot," she says, "that's not exactly something that should occur in your dreams unless something's going on." she's genuinely concerned, and I manage a weak smile.  
  
"I'm-I'm fine," I lie, not wanting her to be any more worried about me. I can't help the words that come next, "I though-I thought you hated me."  
  
Haleh lets out a short burst of laughter that causes me to jump, "No, now that you're under Carter's watch you are officially welcomed into the ER." She smiles reassuringly at me, and I can't help but smile back.  
  
"I was able to go home for a few hours, at least. It makes a world of difference."  
  
I think I like this woman, when she's not scaring the Hell out of me and stomping around in a huff, "Uhh, what time is it?" I ask as I rub the sleep from my eyes.  
  
"Around ten-thirty," she answers as she makes her way to the door, "Carter's making his rounds right now, so don't expect to see him for a couple hours. Now, you're under my watch." she chuckles at that.  
  
I follow her out the door, still wobbling on one leg. My ankle's still hurting, but not nearly as much as it had been last night. She glances at me with a smile as she returns to her desk, "You'll get to meet some of the staff today, since you'll be sticking around awhile."  
  
The way she said it, it feels like I'm going to be in for a long day. Again. Of course, it's better than having nightmares about my life. Anything is better than that...  
  
My stomach lets lose one of the loudest growls I've ever heard, and I realize that I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday, "Umm, is it alright if I go down to the cafeteria?" I ask her.  
  
Haleh nods, "Of course. Just tell them that Haleh sent you, hon. They'll let you slide through."  
  
"Great. Thanks." I give her a tired smile as I turn toward the direction of the cafeteria. This time, it doesn't take long to get there, since I'm spurred on by hunger. I see a little boy staring at me wide-eyed as I make my way down the hall. He's probably thinking I'm some kind of monster right now. I probably look like one, but I don't want to assess the damage until after I've eaten.   
  
The smell of eggs, bacon, and sausage greets me as I enter the cafeteria, and I join the line eagerly, awaiting the feeling of food in my stomach. When I tell the cashier that Haleh sent me from ER, she waves me through with a smile. Haleh must have connections around here.   
  
I take a seat and dive into my food hungrily, not even thinking about anything but the taste of it. It's great, too. Possibly the best meal I've ever had. I go back for seconds before I'm truly full, then I head toward the ER again, wondering when I'm going to be able to see Dr. Carter again. He's the only familiar thing in this place to me, or at least the only person I feel even the least bit comfortable around.   
  
I ask Haleh if I can borrow a brush or something to try to make myself look better, and she gives me one generously before putting me in the direction of the bathroom. Hopefully, I'll be able to at least look presentable, or the most presentable anyone can be in pajamas. The person that meets me in the mirror of the women's bathroom is a pale, make-up-less face that looks as if it hasn't seen the light in weeks. I'm only sixteen, but I look to be about thirty from the cold, hard line of my mouth and the weary look in my eyes. It's obvious I've been through a lot.   
  
I start to brush my knotted hair, but I only succeed in turning it into an auburn mess. What I need is a shower to feel clean. I hobble out of the bathroom to ask Haleh where a shower might be, but I see she's busy talking to a short woman with brown hair who has some kind of a crutch. She looks like she's pissed, and I don't really have an urge to barge in on their conversation. Instead, I glance around to see the woman who had talked to Dr. Carter last night about going to Doc Magoo's after his shift. Abby.   
  
She gives me a small, but hurried smile as she strides past, and I can't help but feel that same air of unhappiness coming from her. Just like I felt the kindness from Dr. Carter. It's something that I've always had a knack for, judging people instinctively. That's more than likely why I was so close to my Dad. Under the cold eyes of a man who had grown up in the worst of situations, I had always seen something more in him...a certain gentleness there.   
  
"Hey you," someone says to me, and I see the tall black doctor that had been hurrying past me last night towards the room where Dr. Carter had worked. He looks like he's damn confident of himself in this place, all proud and steely-eyed, "you Carter's patient?"  
  
I nod, "Yeah." he's probably going to say something about me being here.  
  
"How old are you?" he's not asking, he's demanding an answer.  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
He looks thoughtful for a minute, than snaps back to reality, "I just wanted to let you know that as long as you stay here, you'll need to keep out of the way, alright?" He's trying to intimidate me, and it's working.  
  
"Sure." I say, shrinking slightly.   
  
It's now that I notice the name 'Dr. Peter Benton' across the front of his scrubs, and I have a name to put to the face now, "When is Dr. Carter going to be back?"  
  
"Why, do you need him?" he's just begging for me to contradict him or complain about this place to give him a reason to brush me off. I can tell he's like that, always searching for reasons to put people under him. Probably because he doesn't feel as tall and proud as he looks.  
  
I shake my head, "No, I was just hoping-,"  
  
"Just find a room and wait for him," Dr. Benton tells me as he takes off again, "and don't get in the way."   
  
By the time I look up, he's already turned the corner, off to take care of another patient. I'm a little put out by the encounter I just had, and I have a feeling that I'm going to meet a few other interesting characters before my stay here is over. But I don't mind. People have always fascinated me, and it gives me something else to think about than my mother.  
  
"I can stay out of the way," I say quietly as I make my way to the desk where Haleh is on the phone, with no crutch-woman in sight, "simple enough."  
  
Of course, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, Haleh hangs up the phone and hurries toward the hallway, "Huge accident on the freeway," she yells, "we've got three majors and two minors coming our way in five minutes or so."  
  
Instantly, the whole wing comes alive. People are hurrying back and forth, preparing the instruments and rooms for the expected patients. Doctors are sprinting past me, and I'm barely able to limp to the side of the main hallway as the sounds of ambulance sirens meet my ears. They're here.  
  
I feel like I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. People are giving me strange looks as they pass, obviously wondering what a teenager is doing alone in the ER, "Stephanie!" I hear my name, and I turn toward the source of the voice as Dr. Carter comes to a stop in front of me.  
  
I start to say something, but he's already giving me orders, "I need you to go back down to the cafeteria and wait there until someone comes to get you. The ER's gonna be full, and you would just be in the way if you stayed, alright?" even though he's pretty much telling me the same thing Dr. Benton just did, his voice doesn't offend me nearly as much. I nod to tell him I understand, and he automatically takes off toward the doors to the ER, calling out orders to the nurses that are scurrying about.   
  
I see the first victim being wheeled in by the EMT's. It's a woman who's almost covered in blood from head to toe. Dr. Carter is beside her in an instant as he yells at the nurses, "Pulse!"  
  
"She's fibrillating!" a nurse answers as they approach me, "can't get a pulse!"  
  
Can't get a pulse? Is she dying? Can't they do anything? I tune them out as I see the next patient being brought in, looking just as severe.  
  
Dr. Benton is with the next patient, going about the same routine that Dr. Carter was. Behind them, I see a female doctor, the one with the crutch, yelling orders like there's no tomorrow. Maybe there won't be for some of the patients.  
  
The sounds of the frantic doctors and nurses melts into a quiet hum as I start to feel dizzy. The woman has almost passed me now, and I get a full view of the extent of her injuries. Beneath the blood, I see the cuts and bruises. The real injuries are the huge gash that stretches across her midsection and what looks to be a wound to the side of her head. The woman is unconscious, and the dizziness increases as I watch Dr. Carter try to resuscitate her, all the while moving her into the next room down. I know now that I'm about to faint from the sight of blood and injuries, and I put a hand on the wall to steady myself. It's not working, and before I can even say anything to anyone, I'm on the ground. Everything is fading away, and I can barely hear the voices and rushing people above me before completely blacking out.   
  
*********************************************************  
  
CHAPTER 3  
I'm dreaming again. Now, I'm with Mom on the way to the hospital, and she's driving like a maniac. I can't help but think that if she doesn't slow down the ankle is going to be the least of my problems. She's not saying anything, just staring through the windshield at the road. What is there to say? I caught her red-handed trying to leave without even saying goodbye. My mind is in chaos, so many thoughts hitting me at once. I can't even seem to speak, I'm so shocked and hurt by what she did. How can my own mother even think about leaving like this? Am I really that much of a hassle? Why can't she just love me like Dad did?  
  
The atmosphere in the car is so tense that I can barely breathe. It's weighing down on me, the hatred I'm feeling toward my mother right now. She knows it too, but she doesn't say anything, just keeps driving towards the hospital, as if she has a real reason for just leaving me. For just abandoning her own daughter.  
  
We're pulling into the hospital parking lot now, and I know that now is the only chance to find out why. My mother stops the car and begins to get out, but I stop her with the question, "Why?"  
  
She just sighs, and stares at me. I can see the carelessness in her eyes, and I know now that she had never loved me. I had only been something that had happened accidentally, a liability. I had been blind to it until now. I wait for the answer, but she simply gets out of the car and begins the walk toward the ER doors, not even bothering to help me. I limp in painfully behind her as she checks me in. The receptionist barely gives either of us a glance as she types away at her computer. I sit down warily, not knowing what to do, as the woman hands Mom a stack of papers to fill out.   
  
My mother turns around to stare at me crossly, as if I should be ashamed of myself for delaying her. As much as I want to just get up and hit her, I'm so furious, all I can do is lower my eyes. I can't look at her right now, I feel so betrayed.   
  
It seems like forever before my mother finishes the papers, and as the receptionist turns away to file them, she's already striding out the door, looking like she can't get away from me fast enough. All I can do is stare at her receding figure as the sliding doors open to let her pass. I keep watching until I can't see her anymore, appalled that she never even gave me one last look.  
  
Now, I'm completely alone, and I put my head in my hands. All I can think, can feel is the feeling of desertion, like I'm nothing but a speck now, friendless and forlorn.   
  
I can't even imagine what's going to happen to me now.  
  
  
  
  
All of a sudden, I'm awake and laying on a couch in some kind of lounge. The sounds of the traumas drift through the doorway, and I blink to get the bleariness out of my eyes. They must have run out of room in the ER. That's probably why I'm in here, which is fine by me. At least nobody will see me faint again.   
  
Dr. Carter's probably pissed at me for not getting out of the way when I was supposed to. Fainting isn't something I do often, but then again, I've never seen the things I saw today before now. I guess going into medicine is out for me, considering my inability to digest stuff like that. Of course, how would I ever even have a chance to get into Med school with no way to support myself?   
  
I let out a huge sigh as I sit up. So I guess my future's shot now, too.   
  
My ankle is throbbing again, due to the fall I had taken, and I remember that I have crutches now. I look around, searching for them, but I don't see them. They're probably still in the examining room. Oh well. I can get along without them.   
  
I look for a clock in the room, but don't see one. I have no idea how long I've been out, and I don't really want to go out there and face any pissed-off doctors. I'd say they're all pretty hard to get along with when they're not happy, including Dr. Carter. Instead, I get up slowly, making sure to not put any pressure on my ankle, and limp my way around the lounge, looking at anything that may be of interest. There's a set of lockers to one wall, some with stickers and pictures on the front, and some with nothing. These must be the doctors' lockers. I'm curious as to what's in those compartments, what these people's lives are like, but I would never try to get into something like that without permission. It's just something I don't do. Maybe it's because I know what it feels like to have your privacy violated. My mother had always looked through my things, including my diary, back home. She had never even tried to hide it, just told me something she found in my room and asked me about it accusingly. When I had tried to get it into her head that people's stuff was private, she had never even registered it. That had been my mother, never even allowing herself to think about things she didn't like.  
  
I hope, more than anything, that I don't grow up to be like her. I'd kill myself before I allow myself to treat my kids the way she treated me. Simple as that.   
  
I see the round table, littered with different candy bar wrappers and mugs of half-drunk coffee. So this is definitely where they take their lunch breaks. Underneath the mess, there's an outdated magazine, some kind of medical journal, and I'm relieved to finally find something to do. I've always loved to read, no matter what the material is.  
  
Grabbing the thick magazine, I settle back down on the couch to read. Automatically, I'm caught up in articles of famous doctors and experiments. I don't even understand much of it because of the huge amount of medical terms, but I don't care. I think it's amazing, people devoting their lives toward making others' better, less painful.   
  
I'm pulled from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and I look up to see a guy in scrubs with the name 'Dr. Dave Malucci' on the front. He looks like he hasn't been one for long, considering how young he looks, but he has a swagger to his step that shows he's pretty confident, even to a fault. He gives me a glance before going to one of the lockers and messing with the lock.  
  
"So you're Carter's kid, huh?"  
  
Kid? Why would I be his kid?, " Uh, it depends on what you mean by kid."  
  
He pauses, then turns to regard me curiously, "I mean, you're Stephanie, the kid with no parents."  
  
I feel like I've had an arrow shot through my chest when he says those words so nonchalantly. I've never heard it up front and blunt until now, and it hurts to hear it being said about me. I just never imagined myself being the kid everyone talks about behind her back, the kid everyone feels bad for. I guess it's reality now. He's opening his locker now, as if he hadn't even said anything wrong, and I get the feeling that he's the annoying one that talks before he thinks around the ER.  
  
  
"I guess." I answer as he pulls a bag of chips from his locker and heads toward the table.  
  
He nods, "Thought so. How's the ankle?" he nods at my left foot.  
  
"Um, okay, I guess. A little soar."  
  
Dr. Malucci smiles crookedly as he crunches on a handful of chips, "I bet, with you taking that fall and all. You should've seen Weaver's face when you hit the floor," he sighs contentedly, "classic."  
  
"Weaver?"  
  
He nods, "Short lady, looks like she's permanently got a stick up her ass?"   
  
I'm not getting the picture, since everyone here looks like they've got a stick up their ass, except for Dr. Malucci himself, "Sorry, I don't-,"  
  
"The one with the cane." he finishes, and an image of the red-headed woman talking to Haleh pops into my mind.  
  
"Oh. Yeah, I've seen her around."  
  
He nods as he chews on another mouthful of chips, "Yeah. Whatever you do, don't let her catch you alone. She'll eat you alive."  
  
My heart skips a beat or two, "Is she that bad?"  
  
"If she likes you, no," he answers wisely, "but I can already tell she's not exactly sending 'let's-be-friends vibes' towards ya."  
  
"Oh." well, if I had known I was hated that much, I would've just stayed down in the cafeteria permanently.  
  
Dr. Malucci finishes his chips and rises, "Well, I've got to get back to work."  
  
"What time is is?" I ask as I catch sight of his watch.  
  
"Around fifteen 'till twelve," he answers, "you've been out awhile."  
  
He starts to leave, and I hurriedly ask him if the victims are alright.  
  
Dr. Malucci nods, "Yeah, they all made it to the OR without any problems," he answers, "what happens from there is on the people upstairs."  
  
I'm guessing he means the staff on the upper floors, and I nod, relieved, "Um, it was nice meeting you, Dr. Malucci."  
  
"Yeah, you too." he replies before he's out the door.  
  
I'm alone again with my thoughts.  
  
I wonder what everyone else thinks of me besides Dr. Weaver and Dr. Malucci. Do they think I'm just someone to feel sorry for? Do they think I'm just here to be whispered about and observed, like an animal in the zoo? I don't really know what they're thinking right now, and I don't really want to know. Right now, I just want to stay in here so I don't have to face any of them.   
  
I should have just stayed down in the cafeteria until the Social Services people showed up. Maybe then I could've at least stayed out of they're way and not had to worry about all this mess. But it's too late now, and all I can do is hope no one else hates me like Dr. Malucci said Dr. Weaver does.   
  
"Hello." I hear a soft voice with a British accent, and I turn to see a woman with curly hair standing in the doorway holding a plastic bag. She doesn't look as hurried and desheveled as the rest of the staff.  
  
"Um, hi." I don't really know what to say. I'm afraid she's going to come over and explode about me being in their way and taking up valuable space.  
  
Instead, she just gives me a gentle smile as she approaches me, "Are you Stephanie?"  
  
I only nod.  
  
"I'm Elizabeth Corday," she's the first doctor to actually introduce herself. Her voice is naturally thoughtful and tender, and I can't help but wonder how she manages to order people around in the ER with such a soft voice, "I heard that you'd be staying here awhile, so I brought something from home for you."  
  
She pulls a bundle of clothes out of the bag and hands them to me. I can see that it's a pair of women's cargo pants and a baby t-shirt that has a puppy on the front. I give her a curious look, and she laughs, "That's what I wear around the house. I figured those cargos would fit anyone."  
  
"Yeah," I'm around her size, so they should fit, "thank you."   
  
She nods, "You're welcome. I thought that no one should have to stay in the same rumpled outfit for two days."  
  
"Why? Dr. Carter does." it slips out, and I hope I don't offend her.  
  
To my relief, Dr. Corday laughs, "He's an exception."  
  
I feel a small smile creeping onto my face. I like this woman. She doesn't seem nearly as stuck up as everyone else I've met besides Dr. Carter, "Wow." I just say. I'm actually touched that anyone would even worry about me.  
  
"Oh," she reaches back into the bag, "I brought some shampoo and soap too. I hope your hair's normal."  
  
"That's fine." My hair's actually dry, but it's the thought that counts.  
  
She nods as she stands back up, "My shift is about to start, so I'd better get out there," she points to another door on the side of the lounge, "there's showers in the bathroom."  
  
"Okay," she smiles again as she heads to her locker, "thank you." I say it again.  
  
Dr. Corday glances at me before opening her locker, "Don't mention it."  
  
Eagerly, almost greedily, I hop towards the bathroom, imagining that hot, cleansing water on my grimy skin.   
  
The shower lasts at least twenty minutes, and when I get out, I feel cleaner than I have in days, really. The clothes Dr. Corday gave me fit me well, even though the shirt shows just the tiniest bit of my stomach. I glance around the foggy bathroom for any kind of hairdryer. There's one sitting on the sinks, and I grab it. A nurse must have left it in here. My hair is the only thing I even remotely like about me because of how unique the color is. It's not exactly auburn, as in dark-red, but it's light auburn. I guess you would call it strawberry-blonde. Anyway, it's long and really straight, and no matter how much like crap I've looked, I've always managed to get compliments on my hair. Except for here. My hair was a mess, until now.   
  
I don't have a toothbrush with me, so I resort to rinsing my mouth out with water and using my finger as a toothbrush. It's the next best thing right now. After I'm done with that, I realize that I have no make-up whatsoever to put on. I've always used it to cover up my freckles, but I guess I'll be going around with huge dots on my face all day. As I turn towards the door, I freeze. In the lounge, I hear voices, a couple guys and a girl.   
  
"Great," I whisper as I prepare myself to face the doctors and nurses.   
  
I open the door slowly to see who's there, and I'm relieved to see Dr. Malucci standing by the table talking to Dr. Corday. At least I know them. The third person, however, makes my heart sink. It's Dr. Benton.   
  
I step out of the bathroom slowly, and all eyes turn to me, "Um, hi." I say quietly.  
  
"Feel better?" Dr. Corday asks with a smile.  
  
I nod, and Dr. Benton stands up, "I got the call from the Social Services. They should be here within the next hour."  
  
"Oh," my already sinking heart hits the floor now when I think of facing those people, and I sigh, "okay."  
  
Dr. Benton doesn't even glance at me as he shrugs his lab coat on, "How's the ankle?"  
  
"It's fine." it's really not. It's actually hurting like a mother, but I don't want to look like I'm causing him more trouble.  
  
"Who's clothes are those?" Dr. Malucci asks as he studies me. I get the faintest feeling that he's checking me out, and I cross my arms, uncomfortable.  
  
"They're mine," Dr. Corday says, "Mark told me about her and I thought I might help out a little," she gives him a little shove, "try to put your eye balls back in their sockets before going back to work."  
  
I laugh at that, and Dr. Malucci turns to me, a mock-frown on his face, "You're laughing at me?"  
  
"Yeah." it's all I can say.  
  
Dr, Benton rolls his eyes, "Alright people. Back to work. There's a lot more to do around here than laugh at jokes."  
  
Dr. Malucci's fake-frown actually turns into a real one as he heads toward the door with Dr. Corday in tow, "Yeah, yeah, Benton."  
  
"Bye, Stephanie." Dr. Corday says kindly as she leaves.   
  
I wave at them, and now I'm alone again. I look at the medical journal on the couch, but I'm not really in the mood to read now. I want to walk around a little because I'm feeling fidgety, despite my ankle. All I have for shoes are my slippers, and I put them on before making my way out into the hallway. By the looks of everything, I can tell the ER is quiet now. It kind of reminds me of the calm before a storm, completely still before someone else is brought in, barely hanging on to life.  
  
I see Haleh at the reception desk, and she gives me a wave as I approach her, "Feeling better?"  
  
"Yeah," I answer before looking down, embarrassed. I guess everyone knows what happened, "um, I didn't make anybody mad, did I? Or get in the way too much?"  
  
She laughs, "Well, you didn't cause anyone to die, so you're alright."  
  
"Was Dr. Carter mad?"  
  
She shakes her head, "No. Annoyed, maybe, and worried, but he couldn't do anything about it. So, we took you to the lounge."  
  
"Oh." since she didn't mention Dr. Weaver, I don't ask. I really don't want to know, anyway, "can I go outside? I need a little fresh air."   
  
Haleh smiles, "Why sure. It's warm out there, too. Perfect weather for the beach."  
  
"I won't be going there any time soon." I say sadly as the thought of the Social Services pops into my tired mind.  
  
"Me and you both, honey," Haleh answers, "I'm pretty sure nobody will want to see me in a bathing suit."  
  
I smile as I start to limp towards the ER doors, but I'm stopped by Haleh's voice, "Where are your crutches?"  
  
"Um...," I turn around, "lost them."  
  
Haleh gives me a little shake of her head before turning back to her work, and I can't help but smile at her behavior as I turn and start toward the doors again, looking forward to some fresh air. This place is just too stuffy and antiseptic-smelling for me right now. Besides, I feel like I need to sort of pull myself together before I see the Social Services people.  
  
  
****************************************************  
  
  
CHAPTER 4  
My ankle is really throbbing now as I step outside near the ambulane loading bay. I think I'll ask Haleh for some Advil or something when I go back in. Right now, I just feel like standing here, letting the sun hit my face. I close my eyes as a breeze blows past me, and my whole body relaxes. Out here, there's no rushing, no death. Out here it's just the sky and the ground, and everything in between. It feels great.  
  
I open my eyes slowly, squinting them against the sunlight. It really is a pretty day. If I were at home right now, I'd be sitting on the front porch and reading, or maybe writing a poem. I've always found nature to be inspirational, even though my Mom had always told me that it was stupid to think like that. She had always thought that I was too sentimental, too deep. I guess she wanted me to be just like her, a partyer who always considered looks to be more important than anything. That was always what brought the guys to bed. Of course, I never did that, and I suppose my mother hated me more for it.   
  
My thoughts are interrupted when I see a basketball goal out of the corner of my eyes. Beside it lays a basketball, just waiting for me to pick it up. I hobble to the small piece of pavement that serves as a court quickly, not even paying attention to my smarting ankle. If my mother hadn't made me quit when I was thirteen, I'd still be playing now.  
  
I grasp the ball between my hands as I dribble it a little. I can't real take any steps or anything, so I just stay in place. I don't care though. Basketball is basketball to me. I take aim and let the ball flow from my hands in a perfect arc towards the goal, and it goes in with the swish of the chain net. Of course, it takes me a few minutes to get it again, but I don't mind. I make my way to the three-point line, my favorite place, slowly, and let it drop into the basket effortlessly. I guess I'm not as rusty as I thought I had been. The ball bounces away from me, towards the doors, and I turn to see Dr. Carter catch it. While he's wearing the same outfit, I can tell he's shaved. I guess he does make an attempt to clean up, after all.  
  
"You know that's not good for your ankle." he says as he tosses me the ball. I guess he saw me make my last shot.  
  
I nod as I take aim and shoot again, "I know," it goes in without any trouble, and I see Dr. Carter smile, impressed.  
  
He goes under the goal and throws it back to me again, "You play?"  
  
"Used to," this time, I add in a little dribble, then a right fake before making my way toward the basket for a lay-up the best I can. I shoot it, and it drops in, "my Mom made me quit when my Dad died. Said it was just something that wasted my time."  
  
Dr. Carter frowns, and his brown eyes soften, "She said that, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," I toss Dr. Carter the ball, and he catches it, dribbles out to the left key before putting up a perfect jump shot, even in his lab coat, "did you play?"  
  
He rebounds it and holds it for a second, "No, I just liked the sport enough to play it on my own, but not enough to play on a team," he pauses as he studies my outfit, "you weren't wearing that yesterday."  
  
"Oh," I limp over and take the ball from him. He doesn't mind, "Dr. Corday brought these in for me. She gave me shampoo too."  
  
He nods, "I thought you looked different," he touches my long hair, "pretty color."  
  
"Thanks." I shoot the ball from where I'm standing, and it bounces off the backboard before going in, "she's really nice."  
  
"Yeah, Elizabeth's one of the most caring people in the ER."  
  
I watch as Dr. Carter gets the ball and dribbles over to me slowly, "The Social Services are on their way." he says, and my good mood fades.  
  
"That's what Dr. Benton said." I answer quietly as he gives me the ball again. I start to take aim.  
  
Dr. Carter shifts uncomfortably beside me, "They're going to ask you about your mom and dad, you know."   
  
My shot is off. I don't even hit the backboard, and I turn toward him, scared now beyond words, "What-what's going to happen to me?" the ball bounces away, but he doesn't make a move to get it.  
  
"They're going to find you another home, Stephanie."  
  
"Simple as that, huh?" I ask him, and my voice is full of bitterness. No matter how simple and easy he makes it sound, I know it will be the worst experience of my life.  
  
Dr. Carter sighs, "Stephanie, I-,"  
  
"I mean, am I gonna get thrown into one of those orphanage things? Am I even going to be able to do the things I used to be able to do? Is anyone even going to care about me?" that last sentence fades until I sound like a little girl, but I don't care.  
  
Dr. Carter looks down a moment, then back up at me. His eyes are full of concern for me, and while I'm grateful for his kindness, I know it's not going to change anything, "Why wouldn't anyone care about you? How can they not?" he hesitates, as if thinking he shouldn't be saying this, "you're one of the nicest people I've met, and the most talented" he points to the basketball goal to illustrate his point, "and I know you deserve a family."  
  
Despite the seriousness of this conversation, I can't help but smile at him, "Do you get in trouble for caring about patients too much?"  
  
"All the time," he returns my smile with one of his own.  
  
I know he's waiting for me to say more, and I glance down at my leopard slippers before sighing, "What did I do to make her not love me?"  
  
There's the real question, right there, and I can tell that Dr. Carter's a bit surprised, "Why do you think you did anything?"  
  
"Because...because it's always been me. I've always been the problem," I tell him, and my voice is starting to rise, but I don't care, "no matter what she did, I was always the one to blame. The fights that Mom and Dad always had was about me, and she made sure I knew it." I'm literally shaking now, thinking about all the years I had been told that I was the reason for Mom's unhappiness. All the hurt, all the anger, it's all coming from me now, and I can't stop it.  
  
"She even told me that dad's drug problem was because of me," I tell him as my eyes begin to tear up, "that he couldn't handle me, so he turned to heroine."  
  
Dr. Carter's kind eyes widen a little, and I catch the faintest sense that he's been down that road before. I don't ask him about it. It's probably a sensitive subject for him.   
  
"She pretty much told me Dad died because of me." I whisper, looking down. I can't bear to look at Dr. Carter right now, I feel so ashamed, so embarrassed, "so I don't know what you're thinking about me deserving a family, but by the looks of it, I'd just cause them to fall apart too."  
  
Dr. Carter sighs again, "You don't really believe that."  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" it's taking everything in me to hold back the tears now.  
  
I look up to see him walking toward me slowly, "You're not a bad person, Stephanie. You're mother's the bad person. She's the one who left. She's the one who didn't care," he's right in front of me now, and I'm forced to look at him, "you do care. You're nothing like her, and you know that you never deserved the treatment you got from her."   
  
"I do?" I feel like I just want to hit somebody right now, "because I must have deserved it if it happened to me and not anyone else."  
  
Dr. Carter stares off at some point in the distance that I'm sure only he can see, "That's not true."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
He looks down a few moments, as if he's afraid to go on, "Because I know what that feeling was like, until I realized that things happen and you can't do anything to stop them, no matter what kind of person you are."  
  
I wonder what happened to him to make him so reluctant to talk about. It must have been something awful, something that put that permanent sadness in his deep brown eyes under the kindness. You can see it so easily when you just study those eyes. There's just something there..., "What...what happened to you?"  
  
He glances at me quickly, a painful frown forming on his face, "Uh, a few years ago, one of my Med students got stabbed by a patient that I had refused to order a psych consult on until it was too late," he pauses, and the light in his eyes fades as he remembers it, "I was stabbed too, in the back."  
  
"You were?"  
  
He nods, "It hurt, but it wasn't as bad as what had happened to Lucy...she didn't make it."  
  
She didn't make it. Didn't make it. She had died, and Dr. Carter had thought that it was all because of him, "I'm...I'm sorry." I stammer, and he just stares at me sorrowfully.  
  
"I thought that it had been my fault for months after that."  
  
"But it wasn't."  
  
He kind of gives me a little half-shake, half-nod of his head. I've seen him do it before, whenever he's really stressed or annoyed, "Do you really think that mattered to me?" he asks me. He sighs, and his proud stance seems to deflate, until he's not a doctor, but just a guy standing in front of me, a guy that's gone through way too much in his life, "I'm still not quite over it. I don't think I ever will be."   
  
Who would be?   
  
"But if there's anything I got out of it, it's that things happen, and it's not your fault. You're just beating yourself up over it," he takes a step toward me, "and I don't want you to do that, because you're not the kind of person who deserves that."  
  
He's waiting for me to say something, but I can't. I can't seem to form any words, all I can do is stand here, miserable and shaking with the anger. It still hurts, no matter what he tells me. It hurts a lot, to feel as if you're not good enough to have a family. I wonder where my mother is right now, probably already heading toward California or comething, nothing but the open road ahead of her, while I'm here. Waiting to get carted away to see people I don't know and meet kids who are even more messed up as me.   
  
All of a sudden, it all feels like too much. I've managed to hold everything back, keep a facade up, until now. My whole body seems to crumble from underneath me and I start to fall, devastated. It's really happening. It's true, and I can't turn back now.  
  
I let Dr. Carter catch me, but he doesn't try to keep me up. Instead, he just falls down with me, and we're both sitting on the dirty pavement now. He's not saying anything, just being here. The horrible reality of it all is overwhelming, and I'm engulfed in what seems like a neverending sea of pain. My facade is shattered now, and I let the tears come freely. All I can do is just cry, and it feels like I'll never stop. I'm sobbing uncontrollably, but I don't care. I feel a strange lightening on my shoulders as I just let all the pain, all the anger I've been repressing for a day out.   
  
I can hardly see through the tears, but I feel a pair of hands holding mine supportively, and I lean forward as Dr. Carter envelopes me in a huge hug. He's just sitting here, with his arms around me, as I cry into his shoulder. All I can do is weep. I can barely breathe through the tears, and I'm gasping for air as I keep crying.  
  
We sit here for what feels like days. Long, miserable days. My tears finally begin to slow down, and I blink to clear my vision. Dr. Carter is still hugging me, and I've never been so grateful for human contact in my entire life. Just him being here helps. I don't want to let him go at all, because it feels like that if I do, all the support, all the kindness that he showed me will be gone forever, lost.  
  
Still, I know that he's probably got to get back to work. I know I can't stay out here forever. I have to just get up and move on toward the next part of my life.  
  
I pull away from him, and he gives me a reassuring smile, "You okay?" he gently brushes a strand of long hair from my eyes, and I sniffle. I know that whenever he has kids, he'll make a great dad.  
  
"I...," I don't really know what to say to him, except one thing, "thank you."  
  
He gives me another bob of his head that I've come to identify him with, "Hey, anytime."  
  
We sit here for a dfew moments. I feel like I don't have the strength to get up, I've cried so hard and long. I see the huge sircle of water on the shoulder of his jacket, and I can't help but let out a little giggle, "Um, sorry about your coat."  
  
He looks like he's just noticed it, "What, this? It's nothing. It'll dry," he pauses as he examines it, "even though it's a lot."  
  
I start to stand up, hindered by my ankle, which is smarting again, and he pulls me to my feet, "ready to go back in there?" he asks me cautiously.  
  
"Yeah," I nod, and for the first time in years, I feel confidence withing myself, "I'm ready."  
  
Just as I say it, Haleh steps outside and gives us a little wave, "They're here."  
  
I take a deep breath as I make my way toward the doors, "Time to move on." I whisper.   
  
Beside me, Dr. Carter smiles.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
CHAPTER 5  
They're waiting for me just inside the ER doors. There's a man and a woman, both looking hurried and annoyed with the fact that they had to wait for me. Dr. Carter gives me a pat on the shoulder as he falls in behind me.  
  
"Are you Stephanie McGrere?" the woman asks in the coldest voice I've ever heard.  
  
I square my shoulders, "Yes."  
  
For some reason, the ER seems to slow down around me. Everyone looks as if they're passing me just to see what's going on. I see Dr. Malucci out of the corner of my eye, and he gives me a little thumbs-up sign.   
  
"Would you mind telling us what happened?" the man asks.  
  
I give him a small smile, "No."   
  
As I relay the events of the past day, I watch as others float about. Dr. Benton, Dr. Corday, Haleh, Abby, and even that Dr. Weaver that I was told hated me so much. They all seem to not only be observing, but supporting me silently. It gives me strength I never even knew I had.  
  
The questions are endless, and they ask things about my home life I never expected. Even though I'm surprised, I'm still standing strong. I can still feel Dr. Carter's presence behind me.  
  
When it seems like the interview is finished, the woman lowers her clipboard to regard me with a symthathetic, yet fake smile, "If you're ready, then we can go get your things from your home."  
  
"I'm ready," I answer her, "more ready than I thought I ever would be."  
  
And, much to my surprise, I realize that I actually am.  
  
  
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So, that's it! Do you like it? If so, please review. I desperately need some feedback. And let me know if you really want another installment! 


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